A/N: Voila!  To everyone who thought I'd abandoned this story in favor of my new one, A World That Shouldn't Be, behold: an update!  What can I say?  When the creative juices are flowing, they're flowing, and when they're not, they're not.  Lately the new story has demanded quite a bit of attention.  I'm very proud of it, by the way.  Check it out.

I'm not the weakest link: Thanks – but from the looks of things I won't be hearing from you again.  ;-)

krysalys73: The Final Battle?  That's going to have to wait for seventh year…  :-)

athenakitty: Your reviews are sometimes hard to respond to but I love to get them.  ;-)

Still cant think of a name: You're welcome!  Believe me, I'm not trying to make the gaps between updates so long… it's just the way it's working out.

Bohemiat: Interesting comment about Ron and Hermione.  Eventually Ron is going to have to find the guts to bring up the subject of the possibility of a date with her.

Prongs4: Mmm, I like caramel popcorn.  I'll definitely make sure Tonks gets some.

Talix: Nice to see you again!  I'll keep my eyes peeled for your return.

TheDragonReborn: I like the Wheel of Time, too, although we need a little less conversation and a lot more action right now (in the words of Elvis).  I'm really glad you're enjoying the story.  I wish I thought I sounded like a real Harry Potter book.  I will keep on striving for that.

Chapter 7: A Lead and a Letter

Harry had set no alarm, but he still woke before dawn.  The sky was a soft lavender color with a pinkish tint near the horizon.  Harry dressed hastily and hurried downstairs where, just as Dumbledore had promised, Nicodemus' books were waiting on the breakfast table.

Harry picked up the book on top of the stack and turned it over in his hands, drinking in the smell of old leather and parchment.  It was an aroma that Hermione adored, and Harry had to admit that there was something nice about it.  He very much wanted to open the book and start reading, but the thought of his two friends stopped him.  They were as excited about the books as he was and wouldn't want to be left out.  He was going to have to wait.

Harry had only just sat down when a green fire sprang up in the fireplace.  He looked up, expecting to see Hermione, and was astounded when Ron stepped out.

"Morning," Ron said brightly, walking across the room toward Harry.  He stopped suddenly and looked around.  "Where's Hermione?"

"Not here yet," said Harry.

"You're kidding," said Ron in disbelief.

"Nope," said Harry.

"And I thought I was going to be the late one," said Ron.  His eyes took in the three books upon the table.  "Have you looked at them yet?"

Harry shook his head.  "I wanted to, though."

"I suppose we ought to wait for her," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry.  "It's funny – I thought she'd be here even before Dumbledore, and he said first light."

"Well, she'd better get up soon," said Ron, taking a seat.  "She ought to know better than to expect my patience to hold out."

For a few moments there was silence in the room.  Harry's thoughts had taken a darker turn and he wasn't sure he wanted to air them out.  He hesitated and then decided it wouldn't do any harm.  They had the books; whatever was in them was what was in them.  "Have you ever thought it odd that no one seems to remember that Estella the Wise could supposedly heal the insane?" he asked.

Ron gave Harry an unusually shrewd look.  "You're worried that we won't find anything in these," he said, looking at the volumes on the table.

"Well, yes," Harry admitted.  "Think about it.  Estella is the onlylead we've managed to find and these books are the only ones that mention this ability of hers – supposedly.  I mean, why wouldn't more people know about such an amazing discovery?  Maybe it was all a fraud and this Nicodemus was a nut for believing it."

Ron rested his cheek on his hand.  "Hermione says that facts about people have a way of getting distorted with time.  Estella did live a really long time ago, and books that old are rare."

"Seamus' information came out of a modern book," said Harry.  "If facts do get distorted, then maybe Estella couldn't heal the insane at all.  Maybe she could just… I don't know, make them a little less insane or something."

Ron shrugged.  "There's nothing to be done if you're right," he said.  "But if Nicodemus does mention how she did it, then we've hit the mother lode.  He copied from her memoir, so it's as close to actually speaking with Estella as we can get."

Harry nodded, feeling a little bit better.  His heart felt like it was sitting on a seesaw.  His fingers itched to open the book.  Thinking of finding what they were so desperately seeking made his heart rise.  But then when he imagined not finding what they sought, it dropped into his shoes.  PLEASE be there, he thought.  We're running out of ideas.

Ron shifted irritably in his chair.  "I go to all that trouble to get up early and Hermione doesn't even show," he said.  "If she doesn't get here in ten minutes, I say let's go ahead.  I can't stand this waiting, not when the books are right in front of us!"

The fireplace suddenly filled with green flames and Hermione staggered out.  With her tousled hair and sleepy eyes she looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed.

"About time!" said Ron, standing up.  "What happened?  You're always up before I am."

Hermione yawned copiously.  "Sorry.  I had a really hard time getting up this morning.  Mum had to shake me a couple of times."

"Well, you're here now, so let's get going," Harry said eagerly, seizing the books off the table.  "The library?"

No one objected, and they headed up the staircase to the second floor.

"I had a dream last night," Hermione said suddenly as they walked down the hallway.

Harry and Ron looked at her.  "An ordinary dream or a special one?" said Harry.

"It wasn't ordinary," said Hermione.  "That much I'm sure of."

"What do you mean, that much?" said Ron.

"I don't remember it very well," Hermione sighed. 

Harry frowned.  "How could you not remember it?  The other ones all had you waking up in the middle of the night convinced that they'd actually happened!"

"I slept really soundly last night," said Hermione.  "Soundly enough that I didn't wake up, anyway.  I had a lot of other dreams, too – regular ones – and by the time Mum shook me awake the first one had gotten all mixed up with the rest.  I couldn't really sort it out, and now they're all fading away."

"It was probably because of the harpies," said Ron.  "If I'd been there in the flesh, I'd have been worn out, too."

"That's what I thought at first," said Hermione, "but now I don't think that's it.  I mean, I've gone to bed tired before.  It never felt quite like this."

"I don't understand.  How bad is this, exactly?" said Harry.

"I don't know," Hermione said anxiously.  "The last time my understanding the dream meant life or death for our parents."  She threw Ron a desperate look.  "I don't think it was quite so urgent this time, but all my dreams have been important so far, haven't they?  I don't want to miss anything.  We need every advantage we can get!"

"What are you going to do?" said Ron.

"I owled Miss Flavisham first thing," she said.  "I told her everything I could remember and asked her to let Dumbledore know if she saw anything important in it.  I don't know what else I can do."

"Maybe you'll have it again tonight," Ron said hopefully.

Hermione threw him a dubious look.  "That's not very likely," she said.  "And besides, none of these dreams have been any fun.  I wouldn't want to repeat any of them."

They had reached the library.  "What do you remember?" said Harry, pulling up a chair and setting the books down on a table.

Hermione sat down.  "A village," she said slowly.  "A sense of danger, but the people there couldn't feel it."

"Which village?" said Ron.

Hermione shook her head.  "Believe me, if I knew I'd have told you already."

"Bellaton kept talking about how Voldemort is planning an attack," said Harry.  "Was that it, do you think?"

"I'm afraid it might have been just that," she said mournfully.  "Oh, I feel terrible.  What if I knew the name of the town in the dream?  What if I knew the date?  What if I could have –"

"Kept people from dying?" Ron said gently.

Hermione nodded.

"It's not your fault that you needed to sleep," said Harry.  "You can't help when the dreams decide to come."

"Well," said Hermione, "I guess there's nothing I can do but hope Miss Flavisham can sort it out."

"That's the spirit," Ron said cheerfully.  "And what luck – we have just the thing to help you get your mind off of things."  He picked up a book and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself.  "Okay.  Why don't we each take one and start looking?"

After two hours of reading Harry suspected that his book wouldn't be the one to mention Estella.  Nicodemus was going on about his desire to meet Galileo Galilei and his difficulty to do so as the astronomer had recently been accused of heresy.  Before that he had described (and drawn) a couple of plants, talked about the mountains, and generally bored Harry to tears.

"I wish he'd shut up about the eating habits of Romanian wizards," Ron muttered from behind his own book, and Harry grinned.

"I've got it!" Hermione crowed.  She pointed a finger at her page and ran it along as she read aloud.  "'In the course of my travels in Italy I was most fortunate to encounter Estella Sapenti, who has since become known as Estella the Wise due to her unrivaled ability to reconcile feuds.  It has long been my opinion, however, that the title is all the more deserved as she has been able to heal the brain damage caused by extensive exposure to Cruciatus when all previous efforts have failed!'"  She read the last few words with triumphant emphasis.

Harry and Ron scrambled out of their chairs and stood behind Hermione, looking over her shoulders.  "Tell us there's more," said Harry.

"Ha!" said Hermione.  She read some more from the page.  "'Consequently, it was this extraordinary accomplishment I most wished to discuss, and this renowned witch was most gracious and obliged me.  The secret of her success'" – Hermione's face was alight – "'is none other than a finely honed talent for Legilimency, which she was able to use to locate those who were prisoners in their own minds.'  Legilimency!  Oh, that makes perfect sense!"

Harry was feeling an odd mix of elation at finally finding what they sought and confusion at not recognizing the term 'Legilimency'.  "What's that?" he said aloud.

"It's the ability to look inside another person's head at their feelings, thoughts, and memories," Hermione said promptly.  "It's not a very common talent at all, from what I understand."

Disappointment washed over Harry like a wave.  He dropped into the nearest chair and buried his face in his hands.  "Then it's all been for nothing," he said tonelessly.

"What?" said Hermione, giving him a shocked look.

"It's a talent," Harry said miserably.  "You said it yourself."

The color slowly drained from Ron's face.  "He's right," he said quietly.  "You can't just learn Legilimency, can you?"

"You can learn it," Hermione said firmly, "if you have the ability."

"I'm not –" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"You don't know that for sure, do you?" she said.  "Maybe you can be a Legilimens!"

Harry felt anger rise up inside him.  "And what if I can't?  Dumbledore said I might be the only one who can help Professor Thornby!"

"Well then, we'll have to find another way," Hermione said, sounding angry herself.  "But until then I wish you wouldn't just discount the only lead we've got!"

Harry clenched his teeth.  She was right, of course, but it was terribly frustrating to finally find a solution only to learn that they probably wouldn't be able to use it.  If Legilimens were as rare as Hermione said they were, then the chances that Harry would be one were slim to none.  None of his talents were his own, Harry thought bitterly.  He was a Parselmouth because Voldemort was a Parselmouth.  He could cast Donum Vitae because Professor Thornby had cast it on him.  Even his famous survival of the Killing Curse wasn't his doing; his mother had done it.

"But that doesn't rule out the possibility that you could still be able to do this," Ron said hopefully, and Harry realized he'd been griping out loud.

"Yes," said Hermione.  "I think we should find some books on Legilimency and see if you can…"  She blinked once and paused.

"And what?" Harry prompted tartly, still feeling annoyed with her.

Hermione's lips parted slightly as the light of inspiration dawned on her face.  "Harry!" she breathed.

"What?" snapped Harry, feeling thoroughly irritated now.

"What if Professor Thornby is a Legilimens?  Or Voldemort?"

There was dead silence in the room.  Harry froze for a moment, weighing this thought in his mind.  "I don't know about Professor Thornby," he said slowly.  "She told me she was a Singer when she could have kept it a secret.  She wanted me to trust her."  And then she went and altered your connection without telling you, said a sneaky voice inside Harry's head, but he quashed it.  "I think she would have said something if she were a Legilimens.  For a long time she thought I was going to turn out to be a Singer because of Donum Vitae."

"What about Voldemort, then?" said Hermione, still looking excited.  "There's loads written about him.  I'm sure we could find something that would tell us whether or not he could do it."

"I don't know," Ron said dubiously.  "It's not like anyone's ever sat down and written an authorized biography of Voldemort.  And you won't find him in any of the books about the great witches and wizards, either."

"Well, what about the Daily Prophet?" said Hermione.  "Voldemort must have taken up a lot of newsprint during the years he was in power."

"Where are we going to find copies of the Daily Prophet from sixteen years ago?" said Harry.

"Libraries keep those sorts of things," said Hermione.

"We know of one library that's off-limits," said Harry.

"Why can't we just ask someone what he can do?" said Ron.

Everyone looked at each other.  "I guess we could do that," Harry said slowly.  "But we'd have to pick someone who'd really know."

"Well, that's easy," said Hermione.  "Dumbledore."

"Or anyone in the Order," Ron put in.  "I'd think that they would all have to know what Voldemort's skills are.  Otherwise they wouldn't be prepared to face him, would they?"

"I don't think anyone can ever be prepared to face him," Harry said softly.

There was silence for a moment as the three friends mulled over this dark truth.  Hermione finally opened her mouth, about to speak, when Sirius walked into the library.

"There you are," he said cordially.  "Remus said you might be up here.  There's some breakfast downstairs if you want it."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other, all thinking the same thing.  Here was an Order member.

"Is Voldemort a Legilimens?" Harry said abruptly.

Sirius' face bore a look of complete surprise.  "Interesting question," he said after a moment.  "What brought this on?"

"We were just talking about him," Ron lied smoothly.  "Hermione said she thought she'd read that he was.  We'd really rather know what we're up against."  Hermione shot Ron a very dirty look.

Sirius didn't look as if he believed this statement, but he didn't call Ron on it.  "As a matter of fact, he is a Legilimens," he said.

Hope blossomed anew in Harry's heart.  He fought to keep his face still and saw that Ron and Hermione were struggling to contain their excitement, too.  It was really kind of funny, thought Harry; he never could have imagined that he'd be happy to hear that Voldemort could read minds.

"Now, as to Voldemort's accomplishment in Occlumency… that's something we're not too sure of," said Sirius.

"Occlumency?" said Harry before he could stop himself.

"That is the ability to keep other people from intruding into your own mind," said Sirius.  "How is it that you know of one and not the other?"

"I know about both of them," Hermione said primly.

Sirius smiled.  "No doubt."  He looked expectantly at Harry.

"Hermione's only mentioned the one so far," said Harry, "but I suppose she was getting to it.  You interrupted us, you know."  Hermione scowled.

Sirius' eyes traveled to the three open books on the table.  "Have you found what you were looking for?" he said, his voice growing quiet.

"Maybe," Harry said evasively.  "I think we might be getting close."  Part of him felt a pang of guilt at lying.  They had indeed found what they were looking for which ought to be cause for celebration for everyone, but Harry felt quite unwilling to get anyone's hopes up.  It still remained to be seen whether he could manage Legilimency.  When that question was answered, then he'd tell everyone.  At least that way they'd know what they were up against.  Either he could potentially cure Professor Thornby or they'd have to look for another Legilimens.

"Well, breakfast is getting cold," said Sirius, turning to go.  "Oh, and if you really do want to know more about Legilimency, you could talk to Dumbledore.  He's quite skilled at both Legilimency and Occlumency.  Greasy old Snivellus can do both as well, but I doubt you'd choose him over Dumbledore."  And so saying, he left the library.

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at each other as Sirius walked out.  "That's it, then!" said Ron as soon as Sirius was out of earshot.  "You can ask Dumbledore to try and teach you!"

"Yes," said Hermione.  "I know he's busy and all but I'm sure he'd make the time for something as important as this."

"Sounds perfect," said Harry, who could hardly believe that things could work out so smoothly.  If Dumbledore discovered that Harry wasn't a Legilimens then it wouldn't be so bad.  Maybe Dumbledore could manage the job himself, and it wouldn't matter that Harry couldn't do it.

"So," Hermione said briskly, "what are we waiting for?  Let's write to him!"

Ron's stomach gave a loud growl.  "Oh, after breakfast, Hermione," said Ron.  "I'm starving."

Hermione looked as if she couldn't fathom this attitude at all.  "After all it's taken for us to get this far, how can you want to put this off for even one minute?" she exclaimed.  Her own stomach suddenly groaned, and she blushed bright red.

Harry and Ron grinned at each other.  "Come on," said Harry.  "We're all hungry.  And just think – you'll work more effectively after having had breakfast."  He thought this was a particularly smart thing to say; if anyone could be swayed by the promise of becoming a more effective worker, it was Hermione.

"We'll be back within half an hour," said Ron.  "Nothing's going to happen between then and now."  He and Harry stood up, and Hermione reluctantly followed suit.

No one else was in the breakfast room when they arrived.  It did indeed look as if the others had already partaken of the food on the table and gone their separate ways.

"I've got a consolation prize for you, Hermione," said Ron as he sat down.  "I'll eat as fast as I can."

"That's how you always eat," Hermione scoffed.

"Are you belittling my table manners?" said Ron, sounding taken aback.

"Well, if you were indeed unaware of the fact that you have almost no table manners at all, then I'd say it's high time someone brought it to your attention," said Hermione.

"Merlin's beard, don't start!" snapped Harry when Ron opened his mouth.

Ron looked highly affronted.  "I wasn't about to start a row," he said loftily.  "I was only going to call your attention to the post owl that's sitting outside."  He pointed to the windows behind Harry.

Harry twisted in his chair to look.  A large, black owl was sitting on the windowsill.  It was using one of its feet to tap on the glass while a letter was clutched in the other.

"That's odd," said Hermione.  "It's getting a bit late in the morning for owls.  Whose is it?"

"I don't know," said Harry, getting up and walking over to the window.  "I've never seen it before."  He raised his hand to the latch.

A white blur suddenly slammed into the black owl so hard that it tumbled away from the windowpane.  Ron and Hermione gasped and leapt from their chairs.  Harry pressed his face against the glass, searching for the bird.  A moment later it soared back down into view, followed closely the bird that had attacked it.

"Hedwig!" cried Harry.

Hedwig rose above the black owl, screeched loudly and dropped on it like a stone, claws spread wide.  The black owl squawked and swerved but wasn't fast enough to avoid Hedwig's attack.  It opened its own talons to fight back and the letter fluttered into a nearby hedge.

"Hedwig, stop it!" Harry shouted angrily.  She paid him no mind, screeched again, and launched herself back at the other bird.  This time her claws came away red.  The black owl screamed and tried its own attack, but it was wounded and merely took another slash to the wing for its pains.

Harry moved to open the window.

"Harry, don't!" Hermione said anxiously.

"She's killing it!" said Harry.

"And she probably has a reason!" said Hermione.  "That's not a friendly owl – I'd bet my test scores on it!"

At any other time Harry would have found this statement hilarious, but with the horrible fight going on outside the window it didn't sound that funny.

"What is that terrible racket?" said Lupin, striding into the room.

"Hedwig's attacking a post owl!" said Ron.

Lupin took one look out the window at the fight and promptly rushed outside.  Harry, Ron and Hermione watched through the windows as he pointed his wand at the two owls and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"  Harry shouted in alarm as they froze and began to fall – Hedwig would be injured if she struck the ground – but Lupin slowed their descent with a wave of his wand and the birds landed gently on the grass.

Harry hurried to the nearest door and opened it.  He was halfway across the lawn when Lupin suddenly said, "Stay where you are, Harry."

"But Hedwig –" Harry protested.

"She's fine," said Lupin, giving Hedwig what Harry considered a very cursory glance.  "Black owls are a bad omen, and Hedwig sensed enough evil to want to keep it away from you.  This is not from a friendly sender."

"Malfoy?" guessed Harry.

"Maybe," said Lupin.  "Did it have a letter?"

"It's in the bushes," said Harry.

"Accioletter!" Lupin commanded, and a creamy envelope sped out of the hedge and into his hand.  The werewolf looked critically at the writing on the front while Harry waited impatiently ten feet away.  He glanced back toward the house and saw Ron and Hermione watching them through the window.

"What does it say?" Harry finally said.

"It's got your name on it and nothing more," Lupin replied.  "I don't recognize the hand."

"Well, is it hexed?" said Harry, whose curiosity was by now extreme.

"There's one way to find out," said Lupin with a grim smile.  "But first – Finite Incantatem!"  He brandished his wand at the envelope, but nothing happened that Harry could see.  "Wingardium Leviosa!" said Lupin, and the letter fluttered out of his hand and hovered in the air before him.  Lupin waved his wand one more time and the envelope began to open all by itself.  A piece of parchment slowly unfolded.  At his distance Harry couldn't read it, but he could tell that it bore a few words only and was mostly blank.

Harry's scar suddenly gave a dull twinge.  At the same moment he heard a muffled cry from inside one of the upstairs room and the sound of breaking glass, followed by a shout and the chittering of house-elves.

Lupin turned to look at the upstairs windows.  Harry could see Ron and Hermione looking up at the ceiling from their place at their own window.  Suddenly one of the casements opened and Sirius leaned out.  "Get up here, Moony," he said urgently.  "Something's wrong."  Lupin said nothing but hurried back to the door, leaving the parchment still hovering in the air.

Harry lost no time in walking straight up to the letter.  Nothing had happened to Lupin, so simply standing near it couldn't possibly do any harm.  It was hovering at eye level, making it easy for Harry to make out the three words written on the parchment in heavy black ink.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HARRY.

Harry stared incredulously at the message.  Happy birthday?  That was two days away yet.  Who had sent this?  Without thinking, Harry stretched out his hand to pluck the letter from the air.

Parchment, envelope, and black owl suddenly burst into flame.  Harry jumped back with a shout, but the fire was out almost as soon as it began.  Bits of ash drifted down through the air from where the letter had been, and nothing was left of the black owl but a few feathers on the grass and a very bad smell.  Quickly Harry retrieved Hedwig, who was starting to shake off the charm, and ran back inside.

"Did you see that?" he exclaimed to Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah," said Ron.  "Bugger!  The owl and everything!"

"What did it say?" Hermione said anxiously.

"It said 'Happy birthday, Harry'," said Harry, giving Hedwig a pat.  "What's happening upstairs?"

"Pip came by and said something about Professor Thornby having a terrific headache.  She knocked something over," said Ron.

Comprehension suddenly flooded through Harry.  "My scar hurt just a minute ago!" he said.  "It didn't hurt much, though."  He looked up at the ceiling.  "She's feeling it.  How many times has my scar hurt in the last couple of months and I didn't know it?" he said, his voice rising.

"Voldemort's happy about something," Hermione said softly.

"He could be angry," said Ron.

"No," said Hermione.  "That letter was from him.  Don't you see?  It was a taunt.  He must know it's been opened, and now he's happy.  If Harry felt it through the buffer then he must be really pleased.  Oh, something bad is going to happen…"

A phoenix's cry suddenly echoed through the room.  Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked around, trying to find the source of the sound, but Fawkes was nowhere to be seen.  At the same moment a roll of parchment flew out of the fireplace and hurtled straight for them.  Hermione shrieked and ducked out of the way but Harry reflexively snatched it out of the air.  As soon as he touched it the seal snapped in two and the parchment unrolled itself.

M. Marchbanks sends word that the village of Warbleton is under attack.

Harry read the brief message aloud.  "She's in the Order," he said when Ron looked confused.  "She told me so during one of my practicals."

"Oh, no," Hermione said in a small voice.

"What's the matter?" said Ron.

"My dream," she said, and Harry saw that her face had gone dead white.  "A village."

"It might not have been about this village," Harry said stoutly.

Bellaton swept into the room like a blustery November wind, making the three of them jump.  "What does it say?" he demanded.

Harry read the message again.  Bellaton nodded, turned on his heel, and hurried back out again.  Moments later he returned, swathed in a traveling cloak although the day was fast becoming uncomfortably warm.  Lupin and Sirius were right behind him, though only Lupin was similarly garbed.

"You can't keep me cooped up here forever!" Sirius was saying angrily.

"Arthur says you'll be cleared any day now," said Lupin, sounding harried.  "This is not the time to start taking risks!"

"Since when have you been so risk averse?" said Sirius.

"Someone has to stay here with them," said Bellaton, nodding in the students' direction.  "You are the most logical choice."

Harry felt the flush of anger in his face.  Why did someone have to stay with them?  They were nearly adults, and Alverbrooke was just about as safe as Hogwarts.

"The villagers of Warbleton don't know me!" Sirius protested.  "And the Death Eaters already know whose side I'm on –"

"Griselda's not the only witch who lives there!" said Lupin.  "We don't have time to argue – stay put, and get that letter and the owl!"  And with two loud cracks, he and Bellaton Disapparated, leaving a fuming Sirius in their wake.

"All right," Sirius snarled.  "Where's this letter?"

"Burned," Harry said tersely, and he explained what he had seen.

Sirius seemed to agree with Hermione's assessment of the situation.  "It would be the kind of thing Voldemort would do – use your birthday as an occasion to do a little killing."  He gave Harry a sharp look.  "Whatever happens, I don't want you feeling guilty," he said.  "You can't help it if the Dark Lord is a sick, vindictive –"

"I don't feel guilty!" Harry snapped.  "I don't want to talk about this right now.  Is Professor Thornby all right?"

"We got her sedated," said Sirius.

Hermione gasped.  "Was that really necessary?"

"It seemed the kindest thing to do," said Sirius.  "It's not as if we had a lot of time to sit around and discuss remedies, not with her clutching her head with both hands and wailing like that!  And even if she'd been capable of listening to us she wouldn't really have been cogent.  You can't reason with the insane!"

Harry's anger was heating up.  Sirius was still upset at being left behind, and it showed in the sharp edge his voice had taken.  Harry felt as if his own irritation was feeding off Sirius' mood.  He knew he'd just said that he didn't care about Voldemort's reason for attacking a town, but the truth was that he did care.  Voldemort didn't want little villages, he wanted Harry.  People were fighting and probably dying in Warbleton and it was all because Voldemort had been thinking about him.  It was impossible not to feel guilty; how could Sirius tell him not to?  And then there was Professor Thornby, going behind his back and playing the martyr –

She didn't intend for this to happen and you know it, said that little voice inside Harry's head.  The self-reproach only served to make him angrier.

"I want this done with!" Harry shouted.  Ron and Hermione looked at him with surprise and alarm, seemingly unable to account for his sudden temper.  He decided to elaborate for them.  "I'm not a child, I don't want my birthday to be remembered for a massacre, and I don't like her buffering me!"  He stomped out of the room and down the hall, leaving his two stunned friends and a chastened-looking Sirius behind.

Harry was not paying attention to where he was going, and so he was surprised when his feet took him back to his room and not the library.  However, one look at his Firebolt in the corner was enough to convince him that a flight would be just the thing.  He was too upset to look at books just then.

Harry soared out one of his open windows, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going.  They know I won't leave, he thought bitterly as he flew toward the woods.  I don't need to give an accounting of my every move.

It was some time before Harry felt ready to return to the house.  By late afternoon his anger had cooled completely, only to be replaced by hunger, regret and a little bit of shame.  He wanted to be treated like an adult but storming out like that had probably seemed childish to everyone else.  At least I've got company, thought Harry.  Sirius was right snippy himself, though not without reason.  It wasn't as if Harry didn't have reason to be upset, too, but was this the way an Auror should purport himself?  Tonks and Kingsley wouldn't go flouncing about just because things weren't going the way they wanted.  Neither would Dumbledore, who always seemed to keep his head no matter how dire the situation.  And on top of all that, Harry had run out on Hermione.  He had completely forgotten about her distress over her dream until he'd been outside for quite a while.  Some friend he had been.

When Harry flew back in through his bedroom window he found Sirius waiting for him.  "How are you feeling?" his godfather said quietly as Harry put the Firebolt back on its stand.

"Better," Harry said truthfully.  Self-reproach was better than bubbling anger but it still wasn't a happy feeling.

"Look, I shouldn't have patronized you about the birthday thing," Sirius said gruffly.

"Forget about it," said Harry.  "It was a lot of things, really."

"So you said," said Sirius.  The knowing smile on his face made Harry smile a bit in return, and some of his bitter feelings vanished.

"Ron and Hermione must be pretty annoyed with me, then," said Harry.

Sirius shrugged.  "Not really.  All Ron said was that he didn't envy you, and the two of them went back to the library.  They've since gone home at Molly's request, though.  I think she just wanted her family close after the attack."

"Is it over?" asked Harry, knowing that Hermione couldn't have been as calm as Sirius thought.  He definitely owed her an apology.

"It didn't last long once the Order showed up," said Sirius, and Harry could tell that his godfather was trying to keep his voice even.  "It was mostly just a lot of destroyed property and frightened Muggles, none of whom were killed, fortunately."

"And the Order members?" said Harry.

Sirius sighed.  "Griselda Marchbanks is dead.  She might have been the main target, but it's hard to know for sure at this point.  She did take out a Death Eater before she went, though."  Sirius sighed.  "Great lady.  Very adept for her age; she'd have been pleased with herself, had she lived."  He paused again, seeming to struggle with himself.  "I just said I was sorry for patronizing you, so I suppose I shouldn't do it now.  You ought to know that the message from Voldemort's letter was shot into the sky above Warbleton."

Harry closed his eyes.

"Fight that guilt, Harry," Sirius said gravely.  "It's what he wants, you know – to demoralize you and the entire Order."

"What he wants is me dead," said Harry.

Sirius gave one of his barking laughs.  "True – he wants you and me and all of us dead so he can rule the world with an iron fist.  Just remember this – if it's a day ending in 'y', Voldemort is in the mood to kill or destroy.  It's got nothing whatsoever to do with your birthday.  If it hadn't happened now it would have happened later.  Just be glad that today isn't really your sixteenth."

Harry nodded.  "Yeah."

Sirius stood up.  "Let's go," he said.  "Dinner's waiting."

"I'm not very hungry," Harry lied.

"Too bad," said Sirius.  "You're going to have some dinner with me.  Today might be ruined but tomorrow we've got to pick ourselves up and press on."

"How?" said Harry, feeling despondent despite Sirius' words.

Sirius smiled darkly.  "You just do," he said, "and you will.  There's too much at stake not to.  Now, come on – let's eat."